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“There’salwaysthesamefolksinthebrownhouse,”hesaidwithhisvaguegrin.
“They’refromupyourway,ain’tthey?”
“Theirname’sthesameasmine,”herejoineduncertainly.
Charitystillheldhimwithresoluteeyes.“Seehere,Iwanttogotheresomedayandtakeagentlemanwithmethat’sboardingwithus.He’supinthesepartsdrawingpictures.”
Shedidnotoffertoexplainthisstatement.ItwastoofarbeyondLiffHyatt’slimitationsfortheattempttobeworthmaking.“Hewantstoseethebrownhouse,andgoalloverit,”shepursued.
Liffwasstillrunninghisfingersperplexedlythroughhisshockofstraw-coloredhair.“Isitafellowfromthecity?”heasked.
“Yes.Hedrawspicturesofthings.He’sdowntherenowdrawingtheBonnerhouse.”Shepointedtoachimneyjustvisibleoverthedipofthepasturebelowthewood.
“TheBonnerhouse?”Liffechoedincredulously.
“Yes.Youwon’tunderstand—anditdon’tmatter.AllIsayis:he’sgoingtotheHyatts’inadayortwo.”
Lifflookedmoreandmoreperplexed.“Bashisuglysometimesintheafternoons.”
Shethrewherheadback,hereyesfullonHyatt’s.“I’mcomingtoo:youtellhim.”
“Theywon’tnoneofthemtroubleyou,theHyattswon’t.Whatd’youwantatakeastrangerwithyouthough?”
“I’vetoldyou,haven’tI?You’vegottotellBashHyatt.”
Helookedawayatthebluemountainsonthehorizon;thenhisgazedroppedtothechimney-topbelowthepasture.
“He’sdowntherenow?”
“Yes.
